Sansa's Wedding Eve in the Vale
by Budgiebabe
Summary: Sansa is uneasy on the eve of her wedding to Harry. Petyr comes to comfort her. One shot. Takes place where books have left off.


Sansa was pacing her bedchamber. It was the eve of her wedding to Harry and she was filled with uncertainty. She had sent everyone away for the night because she was not doing a good job of holding herself together. She was indifferent to the wedding, she had endured that already with Tyrion in her "previous life", but it was the thought of the bedding that had her stomach in a knot. "Will he hold me down and laugh if I scream", she wondered. "Will it even occur to him to be gentle after all the whores he has been with?" She sat on the edge of her bed with her hands folded in her lap and became lost in thought.

Time passed, she was uncertain of how long, but she came to her senses when Petyr took her hands in his. He was seated on the bed close to her. "I didn't hear you enter," she stated. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see your tears sweetling," he replied. "It's fine to have a break tonight, but tomorrow you must be the happiest bride that has ever graced the Vale, or the kingdom for that matter."

She nodded her head in acceptance and was thankful that he was with her.

"I get the feeling that you have something you want to say Sansa." As he said this, Sansa had become aware that he was lightly holding her right hand as he gently touched the outside of her left leg. Oddly, she found comfort in this.

"It's just," she stopped.

He was gazing at her with his grey-green eyes in a way that she had not seen from him before. It was closer to the looks he would return her after their father/daughter kisses, but this was still different from that. She couldn't quite figure him out.

"Yes," he baited.

She was twisting her fingers with his as she said, "I don't know if I can."

"You're not still concerned about unveiling the truth regarding your identity are you?"

"No," she cut him short. "You've said that you've taken care of that."

"And I have," he replied instantly and with confidence.

He was closer to her now. She could feel him exhale his words into her hair. She couldn't speak. How could she discuss her bedding with him? It should have been her mother or even Mya, although she blushed more at the thought of discussing it with her than Petyr.

They sat for several seconds, hand in hand, and then Petyr smiled. It was one of his rare smiles that not only reaches his eyes but softens his whole self.

"I have two things for you," he began, "a confession and a secret."

Instantly he caught Sansa's attention.

"I don't think it would be too much of a stretch for you to believe me when I say I had no desire to marry your Aunt Lysa."

Sansa had always guessed this, and let him continue without speaking.

"She had ruined me by her actions in our youth and I had to fight very hard to overcome the damage she caused me. When the Lions in the South instructed me to woo and marry her I almost took the _Merling King_ and fled. However, there were certain parts of my work and legacy I could not leave behind so I did my duty. "

He paused and began playing with the ends of her hair.

"Also believe me when I say the thought of bedding that stupid woman make my skin crawl. You would think after years of managing brothels that I would be immune to certain things, but it's different when it's yourself in that situation."

"Do you remember my wedding night Sansa?"

"Of course I do. It was the night I was nearly raped," is what she wanted to say but instead only nodded.

"What I had to endure on that night was terrible. I was back in the arms of a woman who almost destroyed me. Someone that had pretended our whole relationship in her head and who had taken me against my will; I know that you're nervous about tomorrow, but it's something that has to be done."

There was unease in the room around them. He actually knew how she felt. She knew that bedding Harry was unavoidable, but Petyr had experienced some of the same with her Aunt and survived.

"How awful that must have been for you," her voice was thick with concern.

"Here is my secret Sansa," he said as he moved his hand to the back of her neck.

"To get through it…I thought of you. Your smile on the stairway, the light in your auburn hair, the way your skin flushes when you come in from the cold, and of course your kiss."

At first she squirmed to get back from him just an inch, but his hand was firmly holding her in place as she processed his words. When she settled, he released her and stared. She knew he was gaging her response and she tried to be still, but ever so slightly her lips parted. He began to slowly move towards her. Sansa began to shake with anticipation. When he did arrive at her lips he barely touched them with his own. It was not what she had expected.

He stayed connected to her mouth and said, "Sansa, my sweet, let me help you." Then he pulled back.

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she realized in that moment how much she wanted him close.

"You have to follow through with your obligations to Harry. Unlike Tyrion, he will not be courteous and wait. I want to give you memories. Now, I'm not suggesting I take your maidenhead; my history with those seems to be unlucky. I am however suggesting that I return the same favor you paid me."

Once again she was staring at him. His look was in-between. It was not filled with desire or want. It was not calculating or measured. It was if she could say, "No," and he would still be unfazed, but it was still not that.

He moved his hand to her collarbone and placed his fingers upon it. He did not stroke her; only place his fingers as if to remind Sansa he was there while she thought.

Long moments passed. She was vibrating and then she did something that surprised even herself. She gently lay back on the bed. She was still side-ways; her feet on the ground, but her back and head were reclined.

He looked at her for real this time, without his many masks and finally she recognized the look in his eyes. It was caring. It was happiness. Petyr shifted on the bed so that he was half-sitting next to her. He cupped one side of her face and leaned in for another soft kiss. He kept his hand there while he moved to her forehead, her eyes, and the end of her nose. When he returned to her mouth is was not the kiss she had dreamed of as girl. It was better. He claimed her. She could feel his heat and his tongue. He brought her back upright so that he could fully wrap his arms around her. His hands were everywhere. Sansa was overwhelmed by the most wonderful sensations she had ever known.

It took her a few seconds to realize they were no longer locked together. He had broken off the kiss but she could still feel him pressed against her lips.

"My love," he said," I won't force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with. I promised to leave your maidenhead intact and I will." Sansa took his hand and lead him to the head of the bed.

That night, Sansa found out she was comfortable with lots of things and he did keep his promise.

The next day at her wedding she was crying. To everyone else it appeared to be tears of joy. People remarked, "What a beautiful, happy bride." She was however crying because she was not marrying Petyr. "When I rule Winterfell," she thought," he will never leave my side."

When the guests had gone, Petyr arranged for some of the guards to partake in their own celebrations with women from one of his properties. He waited until no one was paying him any heed and began the climb to the Wedding Chamber. He stood outside the door and listened. For most of the night he remained there devouring Sansa's responses and knowing they were all for him.


End file.
